So, this little baby (not so little, it currently stands at a little over 11,000 words) is the product of two things. Firstly, part one of the season four finale. You know how we were all 'OH MY HEAVEN'S WHAT IS THE SECRET?'? Well, this is what I came up with. Unrealistic to say the least but then when it all came out I was decided to go for broke. Secondly, there are a lot of babyfics out there at the moment. This is sort of my take on it. Sort of... But not what you're thinking.

Anyway, thank you to Emmy1512 who has just been an ongoing beta for this. And she is making me feel better through all the snot.

xx

It had been one month, one whole stinking month of uncertainty and awkward greetings. Well, if he was being accurate, it was one month, four days and thirteen hours. One month, four days and thirteen hours of excruciating pain. He knew he was at fault, that he could and probably should do something to ease the constant pit of unease that was in his stomach… but it was her fault too and he'd be damned if he'd take all the blame on this one.

If she hadn't done it, hadn't said her goodbyes in the most gut-wrenching way possible he wouldn't be in this mess, they wouldn't be in this mess. He wouldn't be going out of his way to avoid her and she wouldn't be working twice as hard at remaining civil and distant on the few occasions they actually did talk. He wouldn't feel like a blasted lovesick teenager.

But no, she'd done it and now he didn't know how to act. Over the years he'd put a lot of thought into just what he'd do if she ever showed more than just a fleeting interest in him but not once did this course of action cross his mind. He was meant to sweep in, pin her to the wall and ravish her. Or present her with some fantastic token of his love that would make her realise how foolish she'd been in denying him all these years. Or, better yet, he was supposed to tell her the choice was hers, waltz away only to have her chase him down the corridor and throw herself into his arms. Not that Helen was one to throw herself at anyone but the fantasy was just as nice as the general sentiment. All in all, this was not how it was meant to be.

Mumbling under his breath, Nikola let his head loll backwards as he closed his eyes. Not even working his way through the new and much larger wine cellar she'd installed only minutes from his assigned room was making him feel any better, not that he hadn't been trying. Vintage after vintage kept disappearing and the only satisfaction he got was the fact that she kept silently refilling it, clearly unwilling to actually come and talk to him about it.

He snorted at that. Helen Magnus was not afraid of anything, not of blowing herself up, not of chasing after homicidal maniacs who would just as soon bed her as kill her, not of anything except him. She, Helen Magnus was afraid of Nikola Tesla. It brought him some kind of twisted satisfaction that she was just as terrified of this as he was. He wasn't suffering alone.

Only he was. He was sitting in his room with yet another glass of wine he should have been lapping up from her glorious skin, completely alone. And why should he? Why should he sit here with his tail between his legs and pretend he wasn't thinking about her every second of the day? Why should he avoid her simply because he was afraid? She'd kissed him after all. She'd been the one to do it. True, he would have done it anyway but she was the one who had made things awkward and why should he have to lose his best friend because of it? He was lonely, lonelier than he'd been in quite some time and it was her fault. He missed her and not just in the sense that he missed her lips on his. He missed her company, he missed her laugh, he missed arguing with her about stupid little things until she bellowed something ridiculous which he'd counter with a leer and salacious comment.

He missed her.

So why on earth was he still here? They didn't have to talk, they didn't have to make any decisions or doing anything other than be them.

Standing up, Nikola swallowed the last of his wine before heading to the mirror, checking the charcoal suit he'd thrown on that morning. It wasn't by any means his favourite, the quality was far below what he preferred but it dry cleaned well and was sufficiently tailored for it to still be in his wardrobe. Briefly he considered changing into something a tad more resplendent but decided against it. He wasn't going there to make her swoon; he was going to reclaim his friendship. If more came from it, then so be it, but he was 99% sure that his choice of suit wouldn't affect anything more than his reflection. Double checking his hair, Nikola turned and strode to his door, ignoring the fluttering sensation that was growing in his stomach at the thought of seeing her again.

For some reason, though he'd made the trip startlingly few times he knew the way through the sleek corridors. For all the modernity of the outside of the building, the interior of this new Sanctuary was reminiscent of the old one in many ways. It wasn't Victorian, instead the dark woods had been replaced with lighter panels yet there was still something so antique about the place. It was a blend of old and new so much like it's creator that Nikola couldn't help but shake his head the first time he saw it.

Huge, sleek windows dotted the corridor, letting in enough (un)natural light from outside to render the stunning chandeliers along the roof defunct. Of course, when it shifted to night mode as Wolf Boy liked to call it, the lights were needed, and the fake stars in the night sky not giving them nearly enough light. Naturally the walls were covered in stunning paintings, many of which Nikola recognized from the old Sanctuary, making him wonder which were the fakes.

No, he thought, shaking his head and picking up the pace, don't get distracted by the paintings, that's what she wants.

Ignoring the splendid surrounds, Nikola strode on. He would get his friend back come hell or high water.

Meanwhile:

Will was doing nothing and unashamed to admit it. Since moving underground with what appeared to be the rest of the Sanctuary Network, he'd been working non-stop. They all had. There were so many loose ends to tie, so many tracks to cover that, for the past few weeks he didn't felt as if he'd gotten a chance to sleep. So today, he was doing nothing. He'd carefully managed to clear his desk of all immediate work, the only things beckoning to him were a few piles of filing that he really ought to get to. He knew that because of his sloth today, tomorrow he'd have mountains of work to do but it was late in the afternoon and his head was pounding in a way that demanded a few hours of mind numbing television.

He had contemplated tracking down Henry but decided against it, the other man having way too much on his plate as it was. He was pretty much in charge of anything technological now and while he now had a team of little techies to delegate to, Henry wasn't quite ready to let his babies go to just anybody.

So here Will sat, feet on his desk, bowl of popcorn within arm's reach as he watched some kind of silly action film that was so improbable it had him laughing from time to time.

It wasn't until a shrill yet familiar beeping interrupted his viewing that he snapped to attention, pulling up the security screens with the press of a button. It was 3A, the entrance he'd used when Magnus had first lured him down here. A breach. Sitting back, Will breathed a little easier. It wasn't unusual for the perimeter sensors for this particular entrance to go off from time to time but never did it actually amount to anyth-

C. Bancroft (Magnus)

Access Granted.

Now that got Will's attention. Sitting up a little straighter, he tried to remember how to pull up the security feeds but by the time he remembered the correct codes the dank corridor with the retina scanner was empty. Whoever this C. Bancroft was, they were already gone.

Bolting out of his chair, Will ran from his office, heading straight to the elevators. He racked his brain, trying to think of any and every connection he had uncovered Magnus having in her 113 years but came up with nothing. Aside from her, he'd found no other Bancroft's in any database. Even since arriving here (and making several apologies for his rather ridiculous behaviour) she'd made no mention of the use of her mother's maiden name other than to confirm all that he'd found. It wasn't that she refused to talk about it but the building he was currently in did kind of speak for itself in a lot of respects. Maybe this was one of her aliases? Maybe this was a security protocol she'd instigated? Maybe something during her latest trip to the surface had gone wrong?

The elevator doors opened on the ground floor and Will stepped out just in time to see Henry hurrying towards the front door.

"Did you see it too?" he called out to the HAP. Henry turned and nodded.

"Did you notice there was no picture with it?" Henry asked, sounding a little worried. Of course, Will thought as they walked through the giant doors and out into the sunny grounds. Each identity verification was supposed to have a picture attached.

"Any ideas?" Will asked as they made their way down the stairs.

"Nothing," Henry replied, shaking his head. "It wasn't a hack, it was totally legitimate but I've never seen the name before. You?"

"Nope," Will replied. "Maybe it's like an alias or something though that doesn't sound like her."

Henry opened his mouth to speak only to promptly shut it again as a person came into view, storming angrily towards the men. The first thing Will noticed was that she was wet, absolutely soaked to the skin, a flimsy summer dress plastered to her pale skin, dark hair stuck to her face and neck. Her hands were balled by her sides, the angry clack of high heeled shoes audible even though they were a fair distance apart. She was short too, not tiny but, even with her heels, the top of her head came no higher than Will's nose with an impressive hourglass figure, accentuated by the soaked summer dress.

"Uh, hi?" Will tried as she got closer, her dark eyes barely meeting his as she continued stalking towards the Sanctuary.

"Hello," she ground out, clipped British accent distorted by what Will very easily knew to be anger.

"Can we help you?" he asked, thinking she pause when she was directly before them but she was relentless, striding between them without so much as a word.

With a look to Henry, Will turned quickly and followed the newcomer back towards the Sanctuary.

"Hey!" Henry called. "Wait up! Who are you?"

She said nothing, continuing towards the Sanctuary though the animosity was rolling off her in waves.

"Are you gonna answer any of our questions?" Will half muttered as they approached the stairs.

"William I am cold and wet and want nothing more than to get out of this hideous dress before I have to face her," she growled over her shoulder. "And your queries are the least of my problems so kindly shut it before I take to you with my heels, alright?"

For a moment, Henry and Will froze, sharing wide-eyed looks of confusion.

"You know who we are?" Will asked as they dashed into the spacious lobby.

"William Zimmerman and Henry Foss," she recited harshly. "The protégé and the Hyper-Accelerated Protean. Yes, I know who you are now hurry up and get in this elevator before I ruin the carpet with this sopping bloody dress."

They shared a look before scampering after her, more questions brimming in their minds.